


The pariah of reason

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Series: We are anathema [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: the feanorians and the 7 deadly sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the work about the Feanorians and the 7 Deadly Sins.<br/>Caranthir and wrath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The pariah of reason

**Author's Note:**

> TW: self-harm
> 
> English isn't my first language, please forgive the grammar and spelling mistakes.

They had no right to say this. A calumny. That's what it was. An awful and degrading calumny. Nelyo was there too, but he didn't reply to their provocation... How could he say nothing? Do nothing? Barely a twitch of his left eye – something that often happened since Fingon had brought him back from... there – but not even a disapproval. And Kano... Kano had just turned on his heels and poured himself a cup of water, as if he was afraid of his own reactions.  
But Caranthir wasn't afraid, and even if he had been, there was nothing he could have done against this aching, torturing rage which was burning within him.

Fingolfin's emissaries were sitting in front them. They had been welcomed in Himring by Maedhros himself, they were supposed to bring them news from the western lands about the siege, words from the High King to his nephews. And here they were, their sentences filled with sarcasm and mocking allusions concerning their father. A coward provocation.

Unable to stop himself, Caranthir stood up, teeth grinding and this painful fire in his guts, his dark eyes fixed on the two elves in front of him. He could already feel the heat rushing to his face, his cheeks burning feversly. "How dare you?"  
He felt Maedhros freeze and tense beside him, he heard Maglor choking on the water and saw the emissaries raising their brows in sheer confusion.

"How dare you come here to insult our family?! To mock the legacy of our father?!" He was doing his best to keep his voice low and deep, but it was already slipping out of his control.  
"My lord..." One the emissaries began, his voice trembling slightly after the sudden verbal aggression. "We didn't... we would never..." Swallowing his words, the elf glanced confusingly at his fellow, desperatly asking for his support.  
"We only stated that the High King wouldn't make your father's mistakes in the war towards Moringotto." The other added, a bit clumsily. Yet he seemed determined to stand up to the Fëanorian. "The king would rather wait and maintain the state of siege, than blindly--" The elf didn't get the time to finish his sentence. Caranthir had paced around the concil table and was now gripping him by the collar, his face red with the flames of his wrath. It wasn't a liberating rage, not the kind of rage you keep for too long and which finally explodes to free you from its chains. No. It was a devasting, ruining, painful wrath. A wrath that never leaves, never vanishes. A hopeless wrath which kept him prisoner of his own fury.

"I will not suffer you're lack of respect and mockeries any longer!" Tightening his grip on the other elf's tunic, the flames of his rage cracking in his ears, Caranthir didn't hear his brothers approach, but soon, he felt a strong hand on his arm. Maedhros's left hand.

The one in front of him, who was a bit shorter but whose strength wasn't negligible, managed to free himself from the Fëanorian's grip and moved away, offence clear in his blue eyes. Caranthir let him go, his brother's hand still holding him back firmly and Maglor moving in front of him. Resting his hands on his little brother's shoulders, Kanafinwë caught his gaze with his own and started to speak. But in his fiery wrath, Caranthir didn't hear him, his whole body tensed and his skin burning with the strength of his emotions. He could barely see the movements of his borther's lips, the sharp glare of the two emissaries and their words filling his mind with hatred, feeling it like a knife in his guts, blood gushing from this imaginary wound and spreading through every inch of his soul.

He heard his name but in this state, he couldn't tell if the voice was coming from Maedhros or Maglor. Yet he tried to cling onto this sound, onto this voice, somehow hoping that his brother's voice would calm the fight between his emotions.

Finally, after what seemed to last an age, Caranthir pulled away from his brothers and left the room, slamming the door and leaving but an uncomfotable silent behind him. He walked quickly, ran through the halls of his brother's fortress, tears of rage rolling along his burning cheeks, his longs legs cutting heasily the distance to the main gate. The rain was falling heavily, but he didn't care, he barely noticed it as he ran away from this suffocating place, as he tried to escape from his own madness, from himself, rage burning like lava through his veins, his jaw clenched to the point of breaking and this inner, terrifying void swallowing him, consuming him from inside.

When he finally stopped running, when he realized that it was vain, Caranthir screamed shamelessly, loudly, with the foolish hope that it will relieve the tension, that it will expel his wrath. But it was vain too.

With a frustrating groan, the Noldo sank his fist into the closest wall, hard enough top crack it. Pain rushed through his arm, almost taking his breath out as he heard the sound of the bones breaking under the violent shock. And as pain spread through his body, as it seemed to overtake his rage, Caranthir breathed, at last. With another loud groan he clenched his injured fist and the terrible sensations washed over his mind like a blinding wave of sheer pain. A loud, heavy sigh fell from his lips as he vehemently shook his hand, his eyes shut and aching sobs blocked in the back of his throat.  
Leaning against the wall, his body trembling with the ashes of his wrath and the awful, painful weakness of his bleeding hand, Caranthir tried to gather his thoughts, to keep his breath long, deep and regular. But the words of the emassiaries were still boiling in his mind.

When he opened his eyes, Maglor was leaning against the wall, a few inches away from him, and he was looking at the sky above them. The rain had ceased, but heavy clouds were still hanging above them, threatening them with a storm.  
"They didn't mean to insult him." Maglor's melodious echoed softly in his ear. "Their words were inappropriate, but they weren't mocking him."  
Slowly, keeping his eyes on the ground, Caranthir shook his head. The only thing he could see were these masks of hypocrisy and behind them, their faces, awful grimaces laughing at him, at his father, at his brothers and at their curse. At the Oath. The image was stuck in his mind, driving him mad and consuming his fragile sanity.  
"Moryo... If you could just give them a chance to talk, to explain. Just... listen to them." Maglor's voice was soft, a caress, a murmur in the wind. "I'm sure you would understand..."  
"Did Nelyo send you?" Caranthir asked brusquely, still unwilling to look at his brother, blood dripping from his right hand. "Is he trying to fix everything in the most diplomatic way, as always?"  
"Moryo, you almost attacked two emissiaries from our king, our uncle, who were here for an important diplomatic concil!" Maglor left the wall, making a few steps towards his brother. "Of course he's trying to fix it and to apologize for your behavior... What happened to your hand?"  
The youngest let out a disdainful sigh and quickly glanced at his painful hand. "Nothing. I slipped."  
"Moryo..."  
"No, Kano. Don't." Finally, Caranthir raised his chin and looked his bother in the eye, his own gaze still burning with rage. "Don't try to fix me, don't try to make me believe these two bastards didn't mean to insult us. They did. They brought this upon them. And if I go back there, if I see them again, I might--"  
"Alright Moryo. You don't have to see them again."

Maglor probably said many other things, but Caranthir wasn't paying attention anymore, once again he was losing contact with the world around him. He could see their faces again, laughing at his rage, at his reactions. They had done it purposely, he was sure of that. They had probably prepared their speech long before the concil, they had caculated his reactions and manipulated him... They knew what would happen and they were surely proud of themselves now.

Noticing the distress and fury in his brother's eyes, and realizing that Caranthir wasn't listening to him anymore, Maglor stopped talking. He leaned back against the wall again, and very softy, he started to sing a lullaby. One of those Moryo liked when he was but a elfling.  
The notes soon reached Caranthir's ears, taking him off his insane thoughts and bringing back to reality. Saying nothing, he listened to his brother's song which was becoming echoing louder, the melody swirling around them and wrapping them in a sweet cocoon. A balm on his injured soul.

Little by little, Caranthir relaxed, and as Maglor continued to sing, he let himself fall on the ground, his back barely held by the wall behind him. Next to him, Maglor didn't blink, his song getting more intense and rocking them both with notes that seemed to come from another world, to escape from this terrible reality. Their reality.  
And as Caranthir focused on the song, as Maglor sang, looking up at the clouds above them, the nature, the time, all Arda seemed to stop and to listen to the melody, this melody which was slowly soothing the burning rage Caranthir was keeping within him. Slowly it vanished, leaving nothing but a peaceful nostalgia.  
They both knew it wouldn't last, but this respite was a blessing.  
A necessary, vital blessing.


End file.
